Blush: A Strangers-to-Lovers Romance

by Rachel De Lune

  That’s when the tears started. And didn’t stop.

  “It’s all a mess.” Her words were only just audible between the sobs. “You’d never understand, and I can’t… tell you everything.” She sniffed in and huffed out another round of sobs.

  “Hey, hey, whatever it is, we can work it out.”

  “No,” she shuddered between sobs, “we can’t.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “Daddy cut me off.” Her hysterics built again at the admission.

  “Okay.” I pulled her into me again, working the problem through. Her dad was some sort of billionaire, and Sawyer had never wanted for anything in her life.

  “He’s fed up of me spending his money, and started complaining that I’d never amount to anything…” She sat up straight, her voice gaining strength as her anger overtook her sorrow. “So he took away my accounts. My income is gone, overnight. No warning. Nothing. It’s like he’s just kicked me out.”

  “You’ve still got your place, right?” My own panic had grown at her plight.

  “Yeah, that’s mine outright, but I was stuck.” The sorrow was back again, and I prepared myself for what was coming next.

  “Okay, sweetie. We can work this out. I promise. But how does this relate to what happened last night?”

  “Astrid, I’m pouring my heart out here, and all you want to know is what it has to do with Leo?” She looked at me. Her brown eyes were still glossy with tears.

  “Sawyer, just tell me. Finish the story. I promise everything will be fine.” I get up and pull us both over to the sofa. We sat facing each other, but she’d buried her head into the cushions.

  “Daddy used to introduce me to his work friends. It’s happened plenty of times in the past. He found it a benefit.” She used quote marks for those last words, and I got the emphasis of those remarks. “Alex Wiseman was one of them. He was charming, and made it obvious he’d be interested in something more than a formal business drink, even with my father present.”

  “Go on,” I encouraged. I pulled her other hand to mine, giving Sawyer the reassurance she might need to get through this. There were no theatrics or hysterics now. The tears still loomed, but the mascara tracks were drying on her cheeks.

  “When I had the argument with Daddy, I was at his offices. I was upset, and Alex was in the reception as I left. He stopped me and told me he’d like to take me for a drink.” She took a deep breath, as though psyching herself up. “I met him at this place an hour later. An old bar called The Parlour. I’d never been before. It was filled with suited guys just like my father, but I didn’t want to be somewhere I could be recognised. Alex met me, bought me a drink, and I confessed what my father had done. He asked if I was looking for a way to make some money.”

  “And what did you tell him?” My heart thundered in my chest as Sawyer spoke her story. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. The rest of the story was already playing out in my mind. It just needed her words to colour in the picture.

  “I told him yes. I didn’t know what else to do, Astrid. I spend a lot of money, and suddenly that had all disappeared. Of course, I needed money. You’ve never been in this position.” Her vicious snap was back.

  “Okay, I’m not judging you.” At least I was trying not to. If this was leading to where I thought it was… I took my own deep breath, the air between us thick with a tension we’d never seen in our friendship before.

  “He wanted to take me out. Said that he often required someone like me to accompany him. That it wouldn’t be anything more than that.”

  “An escort?” I asked, knowing this story wouldn’t change course.

  “I didn’t see it like that at first, and I don’t need to hear your criticism about how naïve I was.”

  I held up my hands. She was right. All of the words floating through my head right now wouldn’t help Sawyer, so I kept them to myself.

  “A couple of dates passed, and it was fine. He paid me well for simply being with him and smiling. It seemed perfect. I could keep living the way I was used too, or at least mostly, and I didn’t need to let on to anyone that I was broke.” She rolled her eyes as if that was the biggest problem here.

  “You never needed to lie or hide anything from us. Why, Sawyer?”

  “I liked being rich, okay. Do you think I want to have to be like Belle, always watching what I spent my money on? Hell, I’ve never given money a second thought. I couldn’t change overnight, and I wasn’t prepared too. And, it turned out, I was prepared to do a lot in order to keep that luxury.”

  “You slept with him.” It wasn’t a question.

  “After the first few dates, he offered more money. He’s a nice guy. Attractive. It was sexy, and I didn’t see any harm in giving him what he wanted.”

  “It’s called prostitution, Sawyer, hell, how did you not see that?” I couldn’t keep the sheer shock from my voice.

  “It was nobody’s business except mine. If Alex was happy, so was I.” The waterworks from a few minutes ago were nowhere in sight now. “He favoured hotels—one night a week, his choice of venue, for the last few weeks. But he also wanted me attending a couple of meetings at The Parlour. He had an arrangement and wanted to ‘show me off’.”

  “Leo said he got rough with you?” I asked timidly, trying to understand what Leo had seen and why he stepped in.

  “No, well, not really. He liked control. It was his thing. And it beat lying on my back.”

  “What?” I didn’t even recognise this version of Sawyer.

  “A little kink, Astrid. You should try it sometime.” And the bitchiness was back.

  “You know that Leo lost his job and his apartment because he was looking out for you?”

  “And if he’d kept his nose out of other people’s business, he wouldn’t be in that position.”

  “And you chose to lie to me.”

  “I didn’t want to admit the situation, Astrid.” She turned away from me and crossed her legs.

  “Are you still going to see him?”

  “Who, Alex? Of course. We have a standing arrangement, and I need the money. I’m not going to stop it because your boyfriend got in the middle. He did punch Alex in the face.”

  As if that justified anything. “Because he thought he was forcing you into having sex with him. How do you not see that?” I stood, torn apart by the revelations and her lies. “I can’t believe you’ve done this. You’ve lied to me. You’ve been pushing Leo away from the start, and this just goes to prove it. You could have said a hundred other things to me, but you incriminated him to save yourself.”

  “And now you know why. Are we done?” She stood and grabbed her coat.

  “You’re leaving? No, we need to figure this out; we need to think about a proper job for you. Let us help you.”

  “I’ve been dealing with this for months, and I’ve not needed your help. I’m fine. I have a solution, and I’m not going to change that just because your boyfriend got hurt. And you should be supporting me. I’m your best friend.” She narrowed her eyes at me, daring me to argue that point.

  “I think you should go. We can talk about this later. I love you, Sawyer, but right now, I can’t believe how self-centred you’ve been.”

  She put on an elaborate pout before turning away. She was the second person who’d slammed my front door today.

  15

  Leo

  The gym was my lifesaver. After the conversation with Astrid, the burning fury of everything that had happened to me over the last twenty-four hours had taken hold, and I needed to find a way to deal with it before I really fucked up.

  Since arriving in London, my cool head had abandoned me. I was no longer calm and felt more off the rails than ever. I wondered if this was how Maddison had felt, and if it was what kept him pushing for bigger—for better?

  That wasn’t what I could give in to now, so the leather bags lined up in front of me would have to do.

  Sweat dripped and saturated my shirt as I went ro
und after round with nobody but myself. My knuckles started to protest after half an hour—they weren’t used to this level of abuse, but I had to vent, and this was all I knew. Hell, I felt fucking lost and right now, I had to find something to ground me.

  My lungs screamed, and my mouth was parched from the amount of dry air I’d sucked down. But I didn’t stop. It reminded me of what Mads and I had gone through when we first started training. Zuri, our trainer, would push us again and again until we were in better condition. Then came the technique and power.

  It was all so easy back then. No commitments, no obligations, just having fun, doing something we both loved—but that all changed. And now I was back to being a guy with nothing—like the last few years had just vanished and left only pain and scars.

  I threw the final punch as a surge of anger hit me, and I tore into the bag before I collapsed to the mats.

  Shit.

  My eyes drifted shut as I listened to the racing beat of my heart in my ears and the throb of my veins under my skin. My breathing began to level out, and I latched on to any sense of calm that existed in my exhausted body.

  When I opened my eyes again, there was a group of guys filing into the gym area in front of the bags. My cue to leave.

  One of them gave me a sideways glance, and I saw him puff out his chest as if he were sizing himself up against me. Not my scene.

  “Right, guys. Grab some space, and we’ll start the warm-up.” A tall, bald guy with dark skin and well-defined muscles followed the group. He piqued my interest, so I slowed my retreat to the changing room. “Thank you for signing on. This will be a ten-week course to cover the basics.”

  I couldn’t linger any longer, and I was out of earshot of anything else he had to say. Shower. Change. Leave. But as I headed for the door, I turned to look at the noticeboard at the entrance area. A flyer for a mixed martial arts class was pinned up—started today by the looks of it.

  Didn’t matter. I didn’t need lessons, hell, I probably knew more than they would be able to cover in ten weeks anyway.

  With my head cleared and my annoyance at the world in check to some extent, I made my way back to Eric’s apartment. I had three days left to sort my shit and decide what the hell I would do next.

  I text my sister on the ride home, thinking I could probably crash with her if I needed. It wasn’t like I had a lot of options here.

  Hey, you busy? Got time for your brother to give you a ring?

  Long time, no speak. Shoot.

  “Hey, how’re things?” She answered my call straight away.

  “Honestly, shit. I was thinking about coming home, but I’ll need a place to crash.”

  “What’s up with your place? Didn’t you sub it out?”

  “Yeah, but he did me a favour, so I need to give him some notice. And sort out a job.”

  “You can crash on one condition—it’s a couple of weeks, tops. I love you, but I can’t have you in my space indefinitely. What happened in London, anyway? I thought Dad had sorted things with Uncle Eric.”

  “It’s a long story, but it turns out that Eric values custom over family.”

  “God, three months, and you’re already the source of all the gossip. When should I expect you?”

  That was the question, wasn’t it? I had nothing holding me here. And if I stayed, I’d only end up making a fool of myself again with Astrid. Right now, I couldn’t take another round of doubt or questions. No, the way I saw it, I needed to leave now. “Tonight?”

  “I’ll fluff the pillows. Ring me when you get into the station. I’ll pick you up. Call it my welcome home present. But you’re buying a month’s worth of beer. It’s the rental terms, so don’t even think about ducking that one.” She giggled down the line.

  “Bye, kid.”

  “Not my name, jerk face.” She hung up, and I shook my head.

  It took me twenty-six minutes to pack my belongings back into the cases I trudged to London with, just a handful of weeks ago. So long, Eric. I hadn’t checked the train times, but I knew I wouldn’t have to wait long for a line from Paddington to Bristol. I’d chalked this up as a learning experience—a failed experiment of sorts. It was time to put it all behind me and get my head on straight. I owed it to Mads to do that. To stop messing about.

  Except it felt like my heart wasn’t coming back home with me.

  As I boarded the train, I thought about calling Astrid and letting her know what I was doing. But that thought cut deep into my chest. I’d failed, and telling her that felt fucking weak and pathetic. That’s not who I wanted to be to her. I was the guy who stood up for her, who wouldn’t accept anything but a proper date, and who wanted to get lost in her beauty again and again. If I called now, I’d be the guy who’d given up. And somehow that was worse than just not telling her at all. Besides, we’d left things pretty raw. That spark was ever-present, but perhaps we weren’t as compatible as it felt to me.

  The train departed, and I had this weird thought about the connections we made with people—if they were brittle and fragile, or flexible and giving. Would the pull I had to Astrid snap as soon as I was out of London, or would it stretch like a giant elastic band and constantly work to pull me back to her, regardless of distance or feelings?

  Who the fuck knew, but I was about to find out.

  Train arrives at 7:46. Still okay to grab a ride?

  I’ll leave in a few.

  I’d written a message to Astrid a dozen times on the way home, but I’d not hit send yet. And honestly, I just wanted to get some sense of what I would do next before opening up to talk with her again. Besides, it was pretty clear where she stood—Sawyer was her friend—I was just the guy she was sleeping with. Everything was too raw right now for me to think clearly. My memories of Maddison were twisting my perception, and my damaged pride was a pretty fucking big barrier to speaking to her.

  I’d lick my wounds before reaching out.

  Gwen was good to her word and was waiting at the drop-off point as I got out of the station. Her Golf GTI spat out a grumble as we took off, and she nipped through an amber light at the exit, refusing to slow down for anyone.

  “Have you spoken to Mum and Dad?” she asked a few hundred yards down the road.

  “No.”

  “They’ll want to know you’re back.”

  “I know.”

  Another conversation I wasn’t looking forward to. Hell, I was twenty-two. I shouldn’t have to report my every move to my parents. But I knew that was just my temper talking. Besides, I wanted to get on the offensive with Eric. I was sure he’d be updating Dad soon, anyway. Best, Dad heard the news from me.

  Gwen lived on the outskirts of town in a small, new build flat. It wasn’t spacious, but then she only needed room for her, apart from when she bailed out her big brother. My suitcases filled the small corridor in her home, and I felt guilty for imposing the moment we got in.

  It wouldn’t be for long. The sooner I got back to my place, the better. Then I’d be able to figure out what to do next. Finally start making sense of the mess I’d made of everything since Maddison.

  “I’ll be out of your way as soon as possible, kid.”

  “I know. And you have to clear the sofa each morning.”

  “And the beers are on me, I know. Thanks.”

  She nodded and gave me a funny ‘what now’ smile. “Have you eaten?”

  Her mention of food woke my appetite. “Not since this morning. Takeout?”

  “Sure. On you.”

  “Fair enough. Chinese, though.”

  “I’ll head out now. If you call the number on the fridge and ask for the Gwen usual, plus anything you want, it will be ready by the time I arrive.” She laid her hand out in front of me and waited. When I didn’t twig, she wiggled her fingers, and I knew she wanted cash.

  “All right. All right.” I emptied my wallet, and she set off with a smile.

  After ringing through our order, I took a seat on my bed for the next few weeks and dared
to take a breather. It was going to be hard trapped in this space for much more than a couple of nights, but I’d need a job before kicking the guy in my place out. I’d still have bills to pay, especially if he wasn’t covering them.

  Twenty minutes later, Gwen was back, and the sweet, unmistakable smell of Chinese takeout wafted in with her. “So, what is the Gwen special?”

  She unloaded the containers on the dining table in the corner of my ‘bedroom’. “Chicken chow mein, crispy beef, and spring rolls.”

  “And how often do you eat that combination?”

  “Every week. At least once. Cooking for one is a bitch.”

  “Agree. Didn’t realise you had a takeout habit.”

  “Didn’t know you cared what I ate.” She sassed my comment and smiled sweetly at me—the silent ‘fuck you’ wasn’t needed.

  She was only a year younger than me, and we had the exact same colouring, complete with all the freckles. Her face never wore a lick of makeup, and her brown hair was always scraped back into a tight ponytail. Black was her colour of choice with little variation.

  She dished her food into a bowl and shoved a pair of chopsticks in before heading to the couch. She flicked the television on and turned it to a football game. I repeated with my food and took a seat next to her. We were both quiet, concentrating on food rather than conversation—we were siblings—we didn’t need to talk like best friends.

  “Want to put a little wager on the next fight at The Club?” Gwen asked after polishing every scrap of noodle from her bowl. She stood and headed to the kitchen before returning with a couple of beers.

  The mention of The Club brought a flood of doubts and questions to mind. As much as I’d have liked to be able to shut the offer down cold, the voice of my conscience wasn’t shouting loud enough.

  “Maybe. Who’s fighting? And what are the odds?” I took the beer on offer and finished my Thai curry.